Squaters Have Rights, ' Beings Have

Blinking pink and you speak of, my god. What do you see, seeing me off through it? After all I, when burdened heavy you have. This heavy burden of being mine come yours it matters - When squaters have rights, all beings have. And if of god, you approve of me to come and go and not be afraid, long after where the side walk seems to end. Can not 'the moon this evening, the stars, when blinking and I past the moon, looking up. Your hands and your leafy lobed twin lips those back breaking, seductive broad hips. Where I fall out of come I must go, if I come back on the morrow, I wait. On the other side, I have slipped out beneath your sun soaked body. Without my leaving any memory of sun light behind me. Yet you came when I called, out your name. As did the rain of time, divine a budding flower when each morning those circled lips have parted when I touched the one ear. While like the dawn opens it's one eye, sleeply over my head. I, a naked little boy loving you, depart, Being a man, once your boy. Picking up roses, modest is Lily, stop now and listen, she comes.